


Philophobia

by avienexjel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:40:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avienexjel/pseuds/avienexjel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the fear of (being in/falling in) love</p><p>This is a little drabble about Tony and Steve, and it's 12:45am here so please pardon my sleep-deprived ramblings that I will probably groan over when I look over this in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Philophobia

Steve wanted to cry.  It'd been an hour now since he had last seen Tony.

 He'd ruined everything; he'd thought Tony loved him but maybe the billionaire was a homophobe or straight or...or...just didn't love Steve after all and just wanted to be friends but Steve had misread the messages and—

They had been sitting on the couch; Tony was making fun of Steve and Steve had been reprimanding Tony, with his face an admittedly scarlet red, about how bringing up derogatory sex terms was entirely _not_ appropriate while watching American Ninja Warrior.  And then Tony, of course, just _had_ to start talking about Dennis or Devin or whomever's hard-on and how it was bobbing up and down when the man was on the salmon ladder, and how _"Steve it's so OBVIOUS; look, it's right there—oh come on, Steve, you're a guy too, you should be able to relate; well unless the ice froze your dick which is mildly understandable—",_ when Steve had grabbed Tony by the jaw and lunged in for a kiss.  To shut him up.  Well, not just to shut him up, but Tony didn't need to know that Steve had been pining after his best friend for well over a gosh darn _year_ now.  And that's when Tony, eyes wide with horror, had torn himself away, looked at Steve with an expression that Steve never, EVER wanted to see on his best friend's face again, and dashed out of the room.  Tony's face, at that very moment, held terror.  Mindblown, panicky, desperate terror.  Because of _Steve._ Because he had gone too fast, and maybe Tony was straight or homophobic after all—and, and, and—

"Steve?"  A soft voice pulled Steve out of his thoughts and he looked up to see the man he was in love with but didn't love him back (and he tried to pretend like that didn't hurt oh so very much) standing in the doorway, big, warm chocolate eyes and full, sculpted lips and tousled dark hair and all.  And suddenly Steve, even though his asthma had been gone now for two years (or seventy two, if you wanted to be technical about it), found it very hard to breathe.  "Can I come in?"  Tony sounded heartbreakingly _Tony-like,_ the way Tony did when no one else was there but Steve.  And boy that hurt.

Steve opened his mouth, to say what he didn't know, but stopped when Tony moved into the dark room, no lights except for the hallway and the lightbulbs were set to _'dim'_ anyways.  The familiar scent of Tony was overwhelming: of engine grease, probably having to do with whatever mechanical stuff Tony did down in his lab; of metal; of not cologne right now but of that lemon-marshmallow soap that Tony always used because he took his showers strictly at _night,_ not in the mornings.  That he probably wouldn't ever smell again because he'd messed everything up, and he hadn't meant to but he _did_ and that's all that matters when it comes to this stuff—the happening, not the intention—but then Tony slung his arm around Steve's shoulders and for a brief moment, Steve allowed himself to think that it was all okay and Tony understood and Tony wasn't homophobic or straight after all.  

But then that moment passed and he was not at _ALL_ prepared for Tony to say quietly: "I'm philophobic. Or...was."

"What?" Steve blurted, before blushing furiously.  He thanked God for a second that the room was dark enough so they could only see the outlines of each other's faces.

"Philophobia," Tony said, his swallow audible and painfully loud in the sudden silence.  He cleared his throat.  "I, it's, um, when someone is...afraid of love.  Like, being in love or falling in love.  And, um, I, I guess I got over it but I still kind of freak out when I'm unprepared so I'm not really a philophobic anymore but some tendencies are still with me, and yeah I'm rambling again aren't I and are you going to kiss me again because if you want to do it um please do it now because I have had a crush on you for maybe a year now so I kind of need you Steve and you're worrying me because you're not saying anything and you're just sitting there and oh my God I really just said that I sound so stupid sorry I know I'm rambling but I can't seem to stop please shut me up oh my God um yeah now you think I'm weird—"

 _Because I have had a crush on you for maybe a year now._ Steve felt like...like he hadn't in such a long time.  His mouth was suddenly on Tony's, hungry and heated and passionate.  And then Tony, like the complete lovable asshole he was, smiled against Steve's lips and breathed out as if Steve's kisses had stolen his breath away: "You know, I kind of expected you to shut me up earlier, Rogers.  Shame on you, what happened to those supersoldier reflexes of yours?  The way you just stared, I thought you got all Capsicle on me again." 

Steve laughed and kissed his boyfriend—yeah, boyfriend sounded good—again.  "God knows, Tony." 

Tony smirked suggestively in the darkness.  "How about I ramble more?"

Steve pulled him down against the pillows.  "How about I stop you?"


End file.
